


Cerebrum in Unum

by CMS521



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Gen, No One is Arya but she was taken away at a young age, timeline is messed with a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMS521/pseuds/CMS521
Summary: Sense8! AU: Jon, Dany, Sansa, No One, Sam, Ygritte, Gendry and Messandei are all going about their lives as normal til one day they are reborn as sensate. They have to navigate their complicated lives while also dealing with the voices in their heads.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Principium

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline and stuff is going to be messed with. Important changes will be addressed.
> 
> Arya is No One, but she was taken away at such a young age that she truly is No One now and has embraced that identity with little recollection of her time as Arya.

Every day the masters performed their cruelty. Missandei had grown accustomed to it, but it never ceased to make her stomach turn when the boys who would become unsullied were put through their trials.

Today there was another merchant prince looking for a few body guards for personal protection. The masters negotiated a higher than normal price, but Missandei could only continue her usual translation. What did it matter if some merchant prince got ripped off? The masters were happy at the end of the day and Missandei avoided scrutiny, so that was all that really mattered.

* * *

Gendry hammered at the piece of steel in front of him. The particular project was personal, and he hoped to use the piece to entice buyers when he had his own shop at the end of his apprenticeship. Tobho Mott came over to take a look at the helm that was coming together nicely beneath his hammer.

“Some knight or lord might pay a pretty penny for work like that,” he commented. “You might be good enough to be some real competition in a few years when you get your own place.” Gendry smiled a little. Tobho Mott never gave out praise unless it was well earned. He set aside his project to begin working on some commissions he had.

While working on a dagger, Tobho Mott came by again, this time with some noble.

“This here’s Gendry, best apprentice I’ve had in a long while. Would hate to lose him.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing abything of the sort. I just wanted to see the boy and make sure everything was well taken care of.” The noble and Tobho Mott walked away, discussing other matters, and Gendry continued his work.

* * *

Sam’s arrival at the citadel was anticlimactic. He had assumed that there might be a warm reception, given he was the heir of a noble house. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He was received well enough, but his quarters were small and sparse. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that he would not be receiving any sort of special treatment.

Sam’s first few days were uneventful. The maesters gave him several tests to see his baseline knowledge in the most important areas. There wasn’t much to do aside from read, which Sam appreciated unhindered by the demands of his father. He wasn’t granted full access to the vast library, but he learned that most of the library was reserved for maesters only.

Very soon all Sam’s time was taken up with his studies, and he found himself content.

* * *

Ygritte enjoyed the daily camp life. Sure, you had to be careful that the Others didn’t take you during the night, but there was a clear goal and means to accomplish it.

Ygritte met Mance once, when he recruited her camp to join the army marching south. Whatever reasoning he gave to the elders seemed to have them convinced. And its not like hse had anything better to do anyway.

It was a wondrous thing seeing giants up close. Before, she would have only spotted them from a distance. Now she broke bread with them at the end of a day’s march.

It was easy enough for her to get lost in the rhythm of hunting, setting up camp, keeping watch and all. During one of the more leisurely miles, she found herself next to a bonded.

“I thought they were only stories,” she explained to the older wildling.

“Oh, no, we do exist. Most of my bonded are not wildlings, so I will never meet them, but occasionally a group of bonded will have two or three wildlings, which makes things easier, so I’m told. The kneelers really have no conception of bonded and are utterly confused when the bonding occurs.”

Ygritte payed attention because the wilding had more years and that meant something north of the Wall. But she didn’t ever anticipate needing this information unless she had to converse with a different bonded.

* * *

Cat woke before the sun had risen. She had dreamed of nothing. Cat grabbed the clothes Brusco’s daughters asked for. She diligently went about her morning routine.

This day was just like any other where she served with Brusco. Her objective was to learn three new things. She had only a few more days before she would return to the House of Black and White.

Cat ignored the cats trailing behind her. She ignored the raunchy japes made in her direction. She had to sell her wares: that was her only objective aside from keeping an ear out for new things. All the ships she passed by with the same calculated call “Oysters, cockles and clams,” spoken in the language most suited for whatever ship she was nearby.

Upon not having sold all her wares, she went to the brothel district. They were always busier in the evening anyway. Cat had learned early on which brothels liked her wares most and which tolerated her presence. Brothels also loosened the tongues of men, so it behooved her to make a visit when she had spare oysters.

Cat returned to Brusco with a full purse and having learned a few new things.

* * *

Sansa was still frantically packing late into the night. She couldn’t decide which of her gowns to take. She wanted to show off her sewing skills, but after seeing Queen Cersei, she realized that Southron style was a bit different.

 _Maybe I can convince father to let me get some gowns once we reach the capitol._ She thought. _If I have to, I’ll bring up the fact that I’m his only daughter. That should bend him to my will!_ She chuckled to herself.

That night Sansa dreamed of the splendor of the capitol: ladies in gowns spun with gold; knights performing heroic feats; her betrothed taking her for walks in the royal garden.

* * *

Jon was sad to see Ned go. He knew that he was to begin his own journey north, but there was something comforting about the idea of visiting Winterfell with Ned still there.

As Jon prepared his horse, Ned approached him and took him aside. “I know you have a lot of questions about your mother. I promise when we see each other again, we’ll speak about her.” Ned squeezed his shoulder and stepped away to continue his own preparations for heading south.

Jon continued his preparations. Benjen said they would leave with the royal retainer and split off from them to head North going toward Castle Black. Ghost came up behind Jon and nuzzled his hand. Jon was glad he could at least take Ghost with him.

* * *

Dany listened intently as Jorah described Westeros. She had only heard stories from her brother, which had to be exaggerated. Hearing about it from someone first hand opened her eyes to fresh wonders and possibilities.

Dany was equally impressed with Vaes Dothrak. There were more merchants than you could visit in one day, and they were from all over the world, surprisingly enough.

Her handmaidens were a bit overprotective with her, considering she was only with child. It was not as though she had some ailment that required significant care.

Dany hadn’t seen much of Drogo since they came to Vaes Dothrak. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen much of Viserys either. She could only hope that they were well away from each other. Even if they couldn’t speak the same language, it was easy enough to offend.

Dany dismissed Jorah so she could retire for the night. She tired more easily since she got pregnant.

* * *

Jon received good advice from the dwarf. Not that he would tell him that or thank him. But the more Jon thought about it, the more concerned he grew about what his status would be at the wall. Supposedly, his being a bastard shouldn’t matter, but the men of the Night’s Watch might not take it that well.

Jon resolved, in the end, to keep Ghost close and keep an eye out for those he might have trouble with along the way.

* * *

Sansa was thoroughly distraught. She had been walking Lady, when she came across Joffrey beating on a boy. The boy got one good swing in before he remembered himself and dropped his toy weapon. Joffrey fell to the ground clutching his wrist. His eyes fell upon Sansa with Lady. Next thing Sansa knew was Joffrey claiming Lady bit him. She couldn’t well lie to the king, but she couldn’t invalidate Joffrey’s story either without getting the boy in trouble, so she said nothing.

Lady died that night by her father’s hand, and she wept for a week while the royal retainer slowly made its way south for the capitol.


	2. Maturescunt

Aside form the incident while on their way to King’s Landing, Sansa had settled in quite well with court life. She sat with Princess Myrcella, did her lessons with Septa Mordane, and was brought lemon cakes daily. She couldn’t be happier with the way her life was heading.

Her father, however, grew increasingly distant as the weeks passed. She supposed he was merely busy with his new duties as Hand of the King, but sometimes, she heard strange voices in her father’s solar at odd hours of the day.

One day, she was introduced to the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish. She was surprised to learn he had grown up with her mother.

“Oh, the stories I could tell of young Cat. She wasn’t always a saint, you know. She regularly harassed the cooks for her favorite treats. Most of the time she got away with it, but one day someone told Lord Tully, and he quickly put a stop to that.” Petyr looked lost in the memory. “No use dwelling on the past, when the present is much more pleasant. Did you know, your mother was a great beauty during her prime. Why, there was even a duel for her hand, if I recall correctly. You certainly got your mother’s looks, but I will confess, you are much more lovely than Cat ever was.” Sansa blushed at the compliment. It seemed well intended, if a bit forward.

Petyr continued on his way after another tale of Catelyn’s past, leaving Sansa to continue on her own outing.

Septa Mordane later commented on the exchange. “While he knew your mother, he shouldn’t be harassing young ladies. You’re to stay clear of him, lest the court decide to use you for their next round of gossip. Did you know he owns several brothels? Well that’s all the more reason to keep well clear of him in the future.”

Sansa for her part was socked that such a courteous and highly ranked man would own brothels. THAT wasn’t in the songs.

* * *

Gendry continued his work on his helm, which was coming together quite nicely. He didn’t have any commissions to get done, so this was a good use of the time he had.

Tobho Mott came into view, bringing a noble behind him.

“Good afternoon, m’lord,” Gendry stopped his work to greet the man.

“This here’s the boy,” Tobho Mott said, apparently carrying on a conversation that had already begun outside of Gendry’s earshot.

“What’s your name, lad?” asked the noble.

“Gendry, m’lord.”

The man looked at Gendry for some time before asking, “Was there a man to see you within the last few months?”

“Yes, m’lord. He came and asked about my comfort and keep.”

The man looked surprised. “He didn’t say anything else? Ask any questions?”

“No, m’lord.”

“Anyone else to see you since?”

“Aside form my commissions, m’lord, no. Most people come to the street of steel for a reason, not just to chat.” Gendry quickly bit his tongue.

Tobho Mott looked a bit upset at him, but remained attentive to the noble.

“Good, well Tobho Mott, let me make sure that everything is in order for Gendry. You know the crown likes to take care of its interests, and I would be thankful if you kept my visit here a secret.”

“Will do, m’lord. I’ll tell the lad, too.”

Gendry supposed that was it, so he went back to his helm. _Why would the crown be interested in a bastard._ Gendry thought. _Unless that bastard had something to do with the crown_. Gendry tried not to entertain any fanciful thinking and quickly put hiss mind where his mallet was.

* * *

Jon was seething. Selected to be a steward! When he was the best fighter in his cohort? An outrage. Ghost snorted next to him, mocking his struggle.

Jon sat and brooded through dinner, glad that his rounds didn’t start til the following day. He was surprised when Chett came by and said that the maester was interested in seeing him. Jon made his way to the maester’s chambers, and found him sitting by the fire place.

“Jon Snow,” the maester began, “I do not think we have had the pleasure of getting to know one another. I’m Measter Aemon.” Jon came to stand by Maester Aemon’s side. “I am inclined to believe that you’re likely shall we say frustrated with the Lord Commander’s decision to take you on as his steward.” Jon clenched his fists. “Well, I’m sorry to say that it was under my advisement that he took you on.”

“You haven’t met me. You have nothing against me, so why –” Jon was interrupted by a hand raised.

“You see Jon, the Watch doesn’t get as many men from noble birth as we used to. Even as a bastard, you were raised well. Now the noble houses of Westeros do not see the Watch as a worthy calling for their sons. We need more men like you, so the Lord Commander decided to take advantage of your upbringing so that he might teach a successor before his time as Lord Commander finished.” Jon was silent. “There are many hidden reasons for the great mysteries of the world, Jon Snow. And, we don’t always get to know the answers either. Count yourself lucky for your position and the answers given to you. You’re going to have a buys day tomorrow, Jon Snow.” Maester Aemon smiled and dismissed him.

* * *

Ygritte found that they were about 2 weeks march from the wall. Sure, she could have made it there faster on her own, but that wasn’t the point of the army. They all needed to get on the other side of the wall, and she only hoped they would succeed.

* * *

Even with his intense studies, Sam still spent his free time in the library. He enjoyed learning about Asshai and Yi Ti. These things wouldn’t be helpful for any of the lords he would serve in the future, but he was curious, and the library provided answers, even if they were at times unsatisfactory.

* * *

No One had returned again to the House of Black and White. She was no longer going to be the Cat of the cannals. She had a new assignment from Him of Many Faces. This wouldn’t be her first gift, but this would be the first time she would orchestrate everything.

The target was an average man, merchant, who sold silks. Whatever he had done to deserve the gift did not concern her. She only needed his name before she began her preparations.

She started by watching the street where all the silk merchants sold their wares. This would give her a good idea of what type of person she would need to be in order to go unnoticed. Luckily, it was fairly common to see servant girls her age moving in and around the stalls.

Next, the girl situated herself where she could watch the man from a distance, so she might see his regulars and perhaps use them to her advantage.

It took some time before she found a person that was willing to take bribes. She only needed a distraction, so she could get close enough to poison the food he had out with him in his stall. It was easy enough work after all the details were ironed out, and the target wouldn’t even realize he was dying til he went to bed and never woke up. Everyone would just think he had some ailment, pity the family and move on with their day.

The girl, prepared with her plan, went to the House of Black and White to get the necessary tools for her to complete the task.

* * *

Dany could not imagine a worse time to go into labor. Her sun and stars was at the mercy of the witch, and the khalasar was ready to follow Drogo’s blood riders as they left. Only Jorah’s strength could save her now.

Dany was carried into the tent, layered in a haze of smoke. She was only half awake during this time, but she knew something was not right as soon as she crossed the threshold.

Jorah was yelling something to the witch, likely letting her know that the baby had to be delivered. But Dany didn’t feel anything. She thought she would feel something, labor pains were always described as the worst pain in a woman’s life, but all Dany could do was stare at the hazy ceiling of the tent and pray the witch was true to her word.

When Dany was coherent again, she noticed that the tent was no longer hazy with smoke. Dany hoped it had all been a horrible dream. But when she felt her stomach, she no longer found it round. The awful nightmare she vaguely remembered was reality.

Dany sat up, looking around for Drogo. If her baby’s life had been forfeit, at least she would see what it had bought her.


	3. Renascentia

Sansa hadn’t seen her father for a few days. She knew something was amiss with the guards that barred her door, keeping her under house arrest. Today would be the first day she was let out, and as she was taken in front of the Sept of Baelor, she knew nothing good would come of it.

Jon was with the watch, ranging North of the Wall. They were making camp when he was thrown into a crowd. He was definitely south of the Wall, and Jon stumbled, disoriented. His vision shifted again, and he was back at the camp. Jon went to Jeor’s tent, bringing the supplies he had been sent out to fetch. He was thrust back into the crowd again, this time close to the stage at the front of a monumental building. Jon recognized Sansa first, then the Queen and Prince. Jon blinked and found Jeor in front of him, a grim look on his face.

“You’re to stay right here, Jon. I’ll be back.” Jeor left the tent, calling for Gren to get him some things, and Jon was gone again.

Dany was standing in front of the unlit pyre, trying to tune out Mirri Maz Duur’s curses and taunts. Right before the pyre was lit, she was thrust into the middle of a bunch of bodies. They all seemed to be waiting for something, so Dany turned and looked in the direction of their gazes to a stage. She came back to the pyre, it appeared that Jorah had asked her something she hadn’t caught.

“Sorry, Ser Jorah. I have a lot on my mind. Could you say that again?” Dany asked.

“Of course, Khaleesi. Do you want to start the pyre?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes seeing not the pyre in front of her, but a man being brought onto the stage. “Let’s begin.”

Gendry gasped when he realizes who is being brought out: the noble that came asking about him a few days ago. Gendry was pretty far back in the crowd to be able to see anything properly. But, just as he’s thinking that he’d like to have a closer view, he got pulled closer to the stage. Now he could see the King, Queen Mother, a red haired lady and some knights. From this close, he confirmed what he saw earlier: it was in fact the noble. Suddenly, Gendry was back far away from the stage again. He hadn’t moved an inch.

Sansa was distraught with the way they’re leading her father out in front of the crowd. This wasn’t a game or show. She had done everything the Queen had asked on the assurance of her father’s safety, and now he was paraded in front of the common folk. Samsa swept her disdainful gaze over the entertainment hungry crowd. She met eyes with a black haired man in the middle of the crowd, and abruptly, she was next to him. She could see all the details on his clothes, hair just like King Robert’s. He saw her new position, too, and tried to reach out, but Sansa was suddenly back on the stage watching Joffrey peacock about in front of the common folk.

Ygritte was in the middle of setting up camp for the night; she was scheduled to patrol since the crows were camped not too far from their current position. She sat down for her supper when she was trust into a crowd of people, somewhere warm. She knew what this was. Her gaze was back at the camp. She got up and moved as quickly as she could over to where the bonded were. This was what the bonded called second birth. While she’s walking, she sees a man on top of a wooden structure. He’s on his knees surrounded by well armed men. The man looked up and made eye contact with Ygritte. Suddenly he was walking with her while she made her way through the wildling camp.

“Take care of them! Please!” the man begged.

Ygritte made it to the bonded and sat down. “I’m being reborn,” she explained. “I think the father is going to die.” The bonded prepared some food for her as she continued narrating what she was seeing.

Missandei, luckily, hadn’t been summoned for the day. She was in her quarters when she began to feel warm bodies pressed against her. She looked up and saw a stage in front of a magnificent building. She knew what this was: an execution. Missandei sat down in her quarters, and prepared herself to watch this vision play out. The language was uncommon in Slaver’s Bay, but she knew it: Westerosi. It was weird to think that in even such a foreign and distant land, executions were still carried out in a similar fashion to Slaver’s Bay.

Sam had been granted a great opportunity. He was going to be helping with an autopsy. First he cleaned the body, preparing it for the maester. Just as the maester made his first incision, Sam was somewhere else. It had to be King’s Landing; the Sept of Baelor was too distinctive to be mistaken.

“SAM!” Sam jolted back to the autopsy room. “If you’re going to get squeamish with a little blood, I suggest you leave before my patience with you runs out.”

Sam started. This would have been a great boon to his studies and path towards becoming a maester. But he couldn’t do that with his head in the clouds. “Sorry, maester,” he stammered, “won’t happen again.” Sam tried to put the crowd from his mind, bringing the tools requested by the maester.

No One was well prepared to carry out the gift. She only had to get close when her helper was distracting the target. She saw her helper go toward the stall, and that was her cue, only instead of pushing through Braavosi, she was abruptly pushing through a crowd of Westerosi. At the front of the crowd was a man being paraded. The girl sneered. _What a waste_ , she thought. _Even if this man is marked by Him of Many Faces, the poor soul shouldn’t be given the gift in front of a crowd like this_. No one moved throught he crowd with ease, and made it to the front to get a better look, her previous target entirely forgotten. All of a sudden she was on stage standing next to the man. He looked up from where his head was bowed, and started when he made eye contact her.

“Lyanna?” he asked. The guards, not having moved a muscle when she had appeared on stage, moved then, tightening their hold on the man.

“Who’s Lyanna?” the girl wondered aloud. The girl was shoved, suddenly in the middle of the street in Braavos again. She looked around, realizing her helper had gone from the stall, leaving her without a distraction to conceal her gift.

Dany stepped into the pyre. It was calling to her. She knew she would be safe. All thoughts of the man she had seen fled her mind, cleansed with the flame.

* * *

Ned could see them all, his children. They all gathered in a semicircle in front of him on the stage. It was bad enough that Sansa had to witness this, but now, looking into each of the faces of his new children, they would have to witness his death also.

At least there was a wildling among the party. She would explain everything. _And_ , he thought _, Sansa and Jon have each other_. Ned smiled and closed his eyes, waiting for his death.

* * *

One man died; eight people fainted, all in unison.


End file.
